Out of Control
by Hekate101
Summary: Sequel to Spend the Night. RHr. 543 words.


Out of Control

by Hekate101

Summary: Sequel to Spend the Night. R/Hr. 543 words.

A/N1: I don't know, but I figured for once, maybe I would have a proper author's note. For the summer of threequels (think Shrek 3, Ocean's Thirteen, Bourne Ultimatum, etc.), I personally think this one is the best. R/Hr + She Wants Revenge can lead to some original (Tear You Apart), peculiar (Spend the Night) and downright naughty (this one) things. However, unlike some other franchise threequels, I think this is the last of the series. I've been working on an odd yet brilliant little (or not) piece called "Nobody's Home" (yes, after the Avril Lavigne song, but please don't judge until you've read it) which will be out soon (before HPatDH, definitely). However, this annoying little snippit kept pecking at my brain, so I've finished it and wrapped it in shiny paper in the hopes that the glamour of the newness will let you think it's something it's not for a little while…and if all else fails, there's _**sexy**_. –evilgrin–

A/N2: Okay, just one more thing: **PLEASE LOOK AT MY PROFILE**! I've updated it, and there's more information on my future stuff and updates on things that haven't been updated in a...while(coughGameNightcough).

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"_We can't slow down even if we tried  
If the record keeps spinning so will I  
She likes disco and tastes like a tear  
Tells me don't stop dancing and she's pulling me near_

_The lights that move sideways and up and down  
The beat takes you over and spins you round  
Our hearts steady-beating, the sweat turns to cold  
We're slaves to the DJ and out of control_"

- She Wants Revenge – Out of Control

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Ron had wanted to stay in. Hermione had wanted to go out. Now they were at a club; she was in one corner (sheer black stockings, stiletto boots, and a miniskirt). She had told him he didn't have to come, but that was no choice. Instead, he sat in the back, not commenting on anything (even if it _should_ be illegal to wear those clothes and have a boyfriend). Her golden-sun-streaked hair reflected the undulating multicoloured lights when she flipped it to the beat. She laughed, and beckoned him over. The strobe threw shadows on every surface as he made his way toward her.

Then they were wrapped together, locking and pushing and grinding to the hypnotic sway of her hips and the snap of her fingers. She arched her neck and he sucked on it obediently.

The tempo changed, and her face lit up. "Ohmygoditsmy_favourite_song," her shiny, distracting lips said, but he couldn't hear the words. The speakers were pulsing and the beat was pulling her away.

She dug her nails into his shoulder and threw her left leg up around his waist, where he held it as she dipped backward once, twice…all the time mouthing the lyrics to the song (Her skirt slip even further up her thigh and he caught a glimpse of garter). Her fingers slip up around his neck and tangled themselves in his hair as her feet found the floor. She leaned in close and he heard a whisper of passion in the words as she sung them to him.

The music faded into something else, but apparently she knew this one too, because her lips kept moving as she wrapped her thighs around his leg and ground her pelvic bone into his hip. Then one hand tugged his hair and pulled him forward into a kiss.

Slowly somehow she turned around and her back was pressed against his chest, her right shoulder moving back and forth just under his chin, that hand wrapped resolutely into his locks while the other traveled down and gripped tightly at the outside of his thigh, not-quite-long nails digging themselves into his tender flesh.

He lifted his right hand to meet hers and wrapped their fingers together. With a twist of his neck, his mouth met her forearm and he licked it experimentally with the tip of his tongue (Saltysweet, like sweat and honey and foreplay). He nipped her ear with his teeth and wrapped his left arm around her waist and under her shirt, letting it rest innocently on her abdomen for a moment before reciprocating her hand on his leg, pinching lightly with oft-bitten nails. He couldn't hear her gasp, or the moan it turned into, but he knew it was there, only centimetres from his lips, where he could almost reach out and breathe it in.

And somehow without moving from that spot, without drinking or taking or inhaling anything but each other, they were out of the club, in another time, another place, far away yet obscenely close, wrapped together, locking and grinding and dancing to the hypnotic sway of their own music. And as she gripped tightly to him and he drowned himself in her, he could hear a whispering of lyrics to their own song.

A/N: I know, I can't make you review if you don't want to, but I figured I'd try just this once…


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